


No Time Like the Present

by Gort



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e06 FZZT, F/M, Time Travel Fix-It, s5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 04:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14709185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/pseuds/Gort
Summary: S1Ep6: Jemma throws herself off the Bus to keep from blowing everyone up, and ends up in a place she really did not expect.Beta'd by Sunalso





	No Time Like the Present

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunalso](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/gifts).



It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

The wind was the only thing Jemma could hear, filling her ears with a relentless whistle and ripping away her tears. Her heart was in her throat, her nerve endings were on fire, and the only thing she could think was that she hoped the virus’s jolt of catastrophic electrostatic energy would overwhelm her before she hit the water down below. Theoretically, it would be quick. Perhaps she wouldn’t feel a thing. The alternative filled her with dread. She was well aware of what happened when an object encountered an opposing force at terminal velocity. She’d seen it. She’d designed experiments around it.

She’d never expected it to be her.

The fall went on forever, and yet the ocean grew closer too quickly. If she’d been able to breathe properly she was sure she’d be a crying, disastrous mess, but her chest was too tight and, for all the open air she was falling through, she couldn’t seem to draw any into her lungs.

It was for Fitz, she reminded herself desperately. And the rest of the team, of course; she’d never want to be the one responsible for blowing them out of the sky, even if it was quite likely they’d survive the crash. May was, after all, an excellent pilot

Fitz, though, he wouldn’t have left her side. She knew that all the way to her bones. If she had stayed, during her last moments of awareness, she would have killed her best friend.

A sob bubbled up in her throat, but she couldn’t get it out.

Something caught her eye and, for a moment, as she spun between earth and sky through ridiculously peaceful-looking clouds, she was terrified of something other than hitting the water. She didn’t knock out the only person in the world who knew her better than she knew herself only to have him follow her on this suicide mission.

The blur above her grew larger, and her heart stuttered as she realized it wasn’t Fitz at all. Who would be idiotic enough to throw themselves of a perfectly good plane when she was trying to save them? She wanted to be annoyed, but mostly she was grateful there would be a witness to her death. Maybe she wouldn’t sink to the bottom of the ocean, lost forever. Maybe her body would make it home. It wasn’t much, but it was a small comfort.

She squinted, doing another tumble and watching the figure close in much more quickly than she’d anticipated. She tried to shout at them to stay back, to let the electrical charge crackling through her veins kill her without taking anyone else with it, but the wind ripped her words away.

A distant hum distracted her, and she looked around, searching for the source. It grew louder, more piercing, and she tried to draw in her arms, wanting to cover her ears. It was the charge inside her growing stronger, she realized, bile rising in her throat.

She wasn't ready to die.

A hand grasped her flailing wrist and she stared numbly into the face of Ward, who stared back without expression. Of all the people she’d expected to jump out of a moving plane for her, he certainly hadn’t featured on the list. Ward yanked her toward him and her hands wrapped around the straps of his parachute even as she opened her mouth to scream at him to get away. He jabbed something against her thigh and a sharp pain raced up her leg.

The last thing she saw, as Ward mashed her against his chest, was the antiserum delivery device falling beside them. Fitz was going to be so disappointed to have lost it, she thought inanely, when he’d worked so hard to build it for her.

Then there was only darkness.

***

Jemma woke up with a gasp. She flung her arms to the side, trying to stop herself from falling, only to find she was already on the ground.

“Ow,” someone mumbled.

It was dark. When had it gotten dark? She tried to calm her pounding heart, taking great gulps of air and desperately casting about for some clue to figure out where she was. Had Ward somehow steered them to dry land? Was she back on the Bus? Why wasn’t she dead? Unless she was dead and just imagining all this as her synapses finished firing.

Whatever she was lying on was soft and cozy and there was an arm slung over her waist. Wait. Was she not wearing any trousers?

“Jemma?” the person next to her whispered. Relief filled her.

“Fitz?” she whispered back, absurdly grateful to hear his voice.

The arm around her middle tightened, and she was definitely not wearing trousers. Was she was using someone’s shoulder as a pillow? All the air whooshed out of her lungs again as Fitz—it was Fitz, wasn’t it?—nuzzled her cheek. That was a bit odd, but she supposed she had just died, or nearly died. The jury was still out on that one.

“What’s wrong?” He sounded sleepy, his voice low and gravelly. “Bad dreams?”

“Fitz?” she repeated. Her eyes were slowly adjusting the dim lighting in the room, wherever she was. It was too large to be her bunk on the plane, and there was no way she and Fitz would have fit comfortably together on those tiny beds. Not that she had ever considered such a thing, it was just an easy measure of size, that was all.

He hummed affirmatively, and his hand slid across her exposed abdomen, making her shiver. His fingers snuck up under the tank top she was wearing and began a slow journey upwards. “We’re safe,” he murmured, kissing her bare shoulder.

Jemma froze, and then Fitz’s questing fingers brushed the underside of her breasts, making her nipples stand to attention. She let out a squeak before scrambling out from under the covers. She crossed her arms over her chest in embarrassment and backed towards an open door she really hoped was the bathroom as a Fitz-shaped shadow sat up in the bed. The bed they were  _sharing_. In…she looked around again, but nothing was familiar. Where was she?

“Jemma?” Fitz sounded wide awake now.

She fled, spinning around and practically sprinting into what was indeed a tiny bathroom before slamming the door behind her, fumbling to turn the lock. Panting, she felt along the wall for a light switch, finally finding it and flipping it on.

The sudden illumination made her squint, but she still had no clue where she was. The bathroom was small and utilitarian, with a tiny shower stall, toilet, and sink basin cluttered with some of her usual creams and hair ties along with several things she recognized as Fitz’s. The heads of two toothbrushes were sticking out of a chipped cup.

What the hell was going on?

If this was her brain’s last gasp, it was exceedingly bizarre. She’d expected to find herself at the Academy perhaps, or back home under the stars, or even on a lovely beach, like the ones she remembered from her childhood vacations.

Although if she couldn’t be in any of those places, at least Fitz was here.

She looked down at herself, tugging on the hem of her skimpy tank top self-consciously. She really needed to have a word with her brain about the dress code, though. Thank goodness she was still wearing pants. Good god, if she was going to wake up nearly naked next to her best friend, she’d really like to remember how she got there.

“Jemma?” Fitz said from the other side of the bathroom door, sounding anxious. “Jemma, what’s wrong?”

She pulled down her shirt again and looked around frantically for something to cover her bottom half. Why the hell weren’t there any towels in this stupid bathroom? And why did Fitz keep saying her name like that? He hardly ever called her Jemma. It was usually Simmons this and Simmons that, even though most of her friends used her first name. She’d always rather secretly enjoyed that he used her last name so frequently, actually. She liked the way he hit each syllable and let it roll off his tongue, his brogue giving it a unique twist none of the Americans ever could. It made her feel special.

Which was ridiculous. Of course she was special to him, just as he was to her. They’d been working side by side since they’d stumbled across each other at the Academy and realized they’d found the one person who seemed to understand everything without it having to be said.

But they’d never spent time together lounging about in bed when she wasn’t wearing any trousers, for god’s sake. She’d definitely remember that.

“Jemma, open the door,” Fitz said, sounding desperate. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She pressed her lips together and shifted from foot to foot, wringing her hands. Something thumped against the door, and she could picture the way Fitz was pressing his hand against it, just like…just like he’d looked in the last moments she’d ever thought she’d see him. He’d used her first name then, too. Shouting it at her through the glass doors of the lab. She hadn’t been able to hear him, but she’d known. She’d hated having to hurt him like that. It was the last thing she’d ever wanted to do.

“Jemma,” Fitz said again, his voice faltering. “Please.”

She couldn’t stand it anymore, reaching for the doorknob and twisting it until the lock unengaged. She stepped back and the door creaked open slowly, like Fitz wasn’t sure what he’d find on the other side of it. Honestly, she wasn’t sure either. She tugged on her tank top one more time but it didn’t get any longer. Or magically become a sweater. This wasn’t like any dream she’d ever had, but she still wished she would wake up.

Unless she couldn’t because she was dead.

Tears pricked her eyes as Fitz’s worried face came into view, and that just made her want to cry even more. He looked so…tired. And strangely older. There were bags under his eyes and a lot more than a week’s worth of stubble gracing his chin, which she'd only ever seen when they'd been sitting their exams. His hair was shorter, and the bathroom lights washed him out, making him even paler than usual, but his eyes were the same blue she remembered.

“Fitz?” she said pathetically, feeling a tear spill down her cheek. Everything was different and wrong but if Fitz was here, it couldn’t be entirely bad, could it?

“Hey,” he said, stepping into the tiny bathroom and reaching for her like it was the most natural thing in the world. She let him pull her into a tight hug as a sob slipped out. “Jemma, it’s alright, whatever happened, it was just a dream.”

He was wearing just a pair of boxers, and it’d been a while since she’d seen him without a shirt on (he was always cranky when she barged into his room and woke him up, not that it had ever stopped her when she had something important to tell him) but his shoulders seemed broader than she remembered. Her head fit perfectly into the hollow beneath his collarbone and he rocked them both gently as she cried.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “It’s alright.”

For some last firing synapses, this was certainly an elaborate scene. Although if she wasn’t dead, then what the hell was going on? Jemma finally managed to get herself under control long enough to shake her head vehemently. “No, it’s not alright. None of this is right!”

Fitz pulled back, his hands grasping her upper arms as he peered into her face, frowning. He didn’t seem at all surprised by the state of her undress, nor was he trying to cover himself up like he usually did. Her eyes drifted down his torso before snapping up to his face again, mortified with herself. He was her best friend, for goodness sake. She was just…really freaked out.

“Okay,” he said, sitting down heavily on the closed seat of the toilet lid and tugging her closer until she was standing between his legs. He clasped her hands in his, running his thumbs over her knuckles and gazing up at her. “I know we still haven’t figured out how to disrupt the loop, but I thought we weren’t going to worry about it until tomorrow?”

Jemma stared at him in confusion, trying to ignore the fact that Fitz certainly seemed comfortable with her in this intimate setting. It was making her head spin a little. She also had no clue as to what on earth he could be talking about, which was not something that usually happened with her and Fitz. She always knew what he was thinking, even if they weren’t in the same room. It was why they worked so well together, why they’d always paired up in the Academy and at Sci-Ops, and why he’d come with her when she’d applied to work under Agent Coulson. They were a team. They were partners.

Something was very wrong.

“Here,” Fitz coaxed in a fond tone she’d never heard before. He tugged her down until she was perched stiffly on his knee and wrapped his arms around her. He stroked a hand through her hair. “You know we’ll figure it out, but in the morning, yeah?” He tucked his head under her chin and held her tight.

Despite her confusion, Jemma found herself relaxing into his embrace, hesitantly resting a hand on his back. He let out a sigh and kissed her collarbone, making her jump and squeak in surprise.

He lifted his head, his brow furrowed. “What’s really bothering you?” he asked quietly.

Jemma didn’t know what to say to this Fitz, who was so familiar and yet all brand new. She could see the pieces of the Fitz she knew in him, but there were bits she didn’t recognize at all. He’d worried over her before but had never mentioned it aloud. He’d always let her have her space, waiting until she was ready to share whatever the issue was. He had definitely never, ever touched her quite this much. It was really making it difficult to concentrate.

“Jemma.” His tone was urgent now. “What did you dream about?”

“I was falling,” she blurted out, unable to keep a secret from him, even if none of this made any sense. “I was on the Bus, and there was an alien virus and you…” She shook her head. “I know you tried so hard Fitz. I’m sorry, but I had to do it, you understand, don’t you?”

She had no idea if she was asking for an explanation, forgiveness, or something else entirely. All she knew was that she was here with a Fitz who wasn’t her Fitz, exactly, but she had to believe he’d understand. He always understood.

“The Bus?” he asked, confused. “Jemma, what…” He sucked in a sudden breath. “Oh hell, you were dreaming about the time you jumped?” His palm slid under her left hand, threading their fingers together. “I didn’t know you still had those,” he said gently.

Jemma meant to ask him what he was talking about when something else caught her attention, glinting in the harsh overhead lighting. She yanked his hand up and her mouth dropped open.

“Oh my god, you’re  _married_?” A thousand thoughts cascaded through her brain all at once, followed by an absolute deluge of feelings. She felt like something had just been launched directly into her solar plexus. It was hard to breathe, hard to think. What had happened, that she couldn’t remember any of this? How long had she been unconscious to wake up and find her best friend in the whole world had gone off and gotten married to someone she didn’t even know?

She tried to blink back another bout of tears. Oh god, what if it was someone she did know? What if he…

Fitz rotated their hands so she could see the back of her own. “I know, it’s a little weird, right?”

Jemma stared at the ring encircling her finger, feeling time stop. Her eyes following the curve of the metal, the gemstones catching the light. The heaviness in her belly moved to wrap around her heart, squeezing it tight. She tried to say Fitz’s name, but she couldn’t get any words out.  

“Never thought I…” he started, his voice quiet. He didn’t seem inclined to finish his sentence, instead trailing his fingers across her palm before lifting it up and pressing a kiss to the center of it.

An entire kaleidoscope of butterflies took flight inside Jemma’s stomach as she stared at their hands, trying to get her brain to process what was happening. She was aware she was holding her breath, but maybe she didn’t need to breathe. Reality had gone topsy-turvy on her and nothing was making sense.

Strangely, the fact that she was so thoroughly confused was making her suspect she wasn’t dead after all.

She drew in a shuddering breath, pressing back against the supportive hand Fitz was slowly running up and down her spine as she tried to sort through all these new facts.

Fitz was married. To her, apparently. Which was exceedingly odd, but she supposed there were much worse things than marrying your best friend.

If she was being honest—which she’d heard near-death experiences often encouraged—it wasn’t as though she’d never considered what an excellent romantic partner he might be, it was just that she couldn’t stand the thought of ever losing him, and she seemed to have a knack for utterly failing to maintain any kind of long-term relationship.

Except when it came to Fitz.

Another tear escaped as Jemma took a deep breath, feeling lightheaded. So she didn’t know where she was, or remember what had happened, or understand precisely how this had all come about, but she could always rely on Fitz and here he was. Their partnership might be a bit different than what she remembered, but they were together, that was the important thing. They would figure this out.

Fitz’s thumb was rubbing across the ring on her finger like he wanted to assure himself it was still there. Jemma couldn’t look away, mesmerized by his gentle touch.

“Fitz,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “We’re not on the Bus.”

“No, we’re not,” Fitz agreed softly. “Everything’s alright. We’re safe.”

“You…” She sniffled and wiped irritatedly at her wet cheeks. “But how?”

“Jemma,” Fitz’s tone was gentle, but the catch in his voice made her pulse quicken. She lifted her head to find him gazing at her in a way that took her breath away. He reached up and brushed his fingers through her drying tears, a tiny smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “You know I’ll always find a way to save you.” Jemma stared at him, knowing she must look utterly gobsmacked, but she couldn’t look away. The emotion laid bare on his face was both overwhelming and the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

Fitz hummed tiredly, his hand coming up to rub the back of her neck as he leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. Her hands clutched at his shoulders tightly, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Back to bed?” he murmured, brushing the tips of their noses together.

Dazedly, Jemma nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak. How in the world had they gotten here, from the last moment she remembered?

She let Fitz help her to her feet and he followed suit, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight as they shuffled out of the bathroom together with her tucked back against his chest like he couldn’t stand for them to be separated even for a moment. His thumb had found her ring again, the rhythmic feel of him rubbing it soothing something deep inside her.

He nuzzled her neck and she felt him stifle a yawn. “Sorry,” he mumbled, kissing a spot just under her ear that made her eyes cross and her knees a little wobbly. “We can stay up if you’re not ready to go back to sleep yet.”

Jemma found herself smiling in spite of the strange situation she was in. How many times had she heard him say variations of that when they’d been studying, or working on a particularly tricky experiment? The glimpses of her old Fitz inside of this new one made her feel like her heart was cracking open.

It was terrifying, and she never wanted it to stop.

He finally released her as they reached the bed and Jemma hesitated, watching him stretch out on the mattress as she gingerly perched on the edge. Her heart rate was quite elevated, and she was sure she wasn’t going to be sleeping at all in the near future. What had happened to get them to this place, to this moment? What had she done to make Fitz look at her like she was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen?

Fitz opened one eye and made a discontented noise, tugging her down so she was curled up beside him, her head cradled on his shoulder and her arm across his chest. He slid a hand down to cup her bum and she muffled a surprised noise against his skin. He smelled like the lab and himself, just the same as she remembered. Like home. She exhaled, finally relaxing, before hesitantly pressing a brief kiss to his shoulder.

Now that she was lying down, she realized she actually was quite tired, as though she’d been awake for days instead of unconscious for however much time she’d lost. She knew she should tell him she couldn’t remember where they were, or how they’d gotten there, but then they’d probably have to get up and find her trousers and run tests and inform Agent Coulson, if he was around, and there were still so many things she wanted to ask Fitz.

Jemma was fairly certain she wasn’t dead, but she was also certain she was missing a rather large chunk of time. It made her ache to realize how much she didn’t remember. She’d gotten married to her best friend and she couldn’t even recall their first kiss.

Fitz brushed a kiss across against her temple and she tipped her head back so she could see him. She could just make out his features in the dim lighting. His eyes were both open and he was watching her with a look on his face she didn’t recognize. “Fitz,” she whispered

He seemed to take that as an answer to a question she didn’t know he was asking, his fingers straying to trace the hem of her knickers as he leaned in, pressing his lips against hers. Jemma gasped against his mouth, her lips parting and her eyes wide, as he pulled her flush against him.

Oh god, they were kissing.

There were lips and tongue and the roughness of his stubble dragging over her skin was much more stimulating than she’d expected. She clutched his shoulder as he slipped a leg between hers, feeling his burgeoning erection against her belly as his tongue explored her mouth. It was all new and strange and so very close to perfect. Her fingers dug into his skin as she tilted her head slightly, searching for just the right angle while her hips surged against him.

He pulled back, pressing kisses along her jaw, and then her brain finally reengaged. “Wait,” Jemma managed.

Fitz immediately lifted his head, gazing down at her in concern. “What is it?”

She tightened her grip on his shoulder, not wanting him to let go. She hated that she was going to ruin this moment for them. What if she never remembered? What if Fitz hated her for forgetting everything they’d been through together? What if…Jemma took a shaky breath and stuffed her doubts as deep down as she could. She had to trust he wouldn’t be too angry with her. It was Fitz.

“I don’t…” Jemma’s voice trembled, and she couldn’t figure out how to even begin to explain this mess to the Fitz who was waiting so patiently for her to speak. “When I fell—jumped,” she tried again. “We weren’t…” she tentatively patted his chest, trying to convey her meaning. “Like this.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Uh, no?” He shifted slightly, rearranging them so they were both on their sides, facing each other. His hand had moved up to her lower back, following the line of her spine up under her tank top.

Jemma bit her lip. “So that didn’t change anything. With us, I mean.”

Fitz’s entire face registered his confusion. Jemma reached up, unable to help herself, and touched a finger to the wrinkle between his eyebrows, sliding it down his nose to his pursed lips. He kissed the tip of it and she wanted to cry at the thought of losing these tiny bits of affection she never even knew she craved. “I mean, a little bit, yeah.”

“It did?”

He blew out a breath and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling for a minute with his nose wrinkled. Jemma trailed her fingers through the scruff on his chin and down his throat. It was quite a good look for him, she’d have to tell him that, later, after he’d forgiven her for forgetting the entire life they’d apparently built together.

She had noticed there were no windows in their room, and it was almost eerily quiet. They weren’t on a plane, or anything else with an engine. Were they underground? Were they alone? The thought of being trapped with Fitz in some apocalyptic bunker was much less unnerving than she supposed it should be, but if he was here, then things couldn’t be all that bad. They’d figure out a way to fix whatever needed fixing. It was what they did.

“Is this because I completely blew my vows during the ceremony?” he asked.

“What?” Jemma asked, startled. She propped herself up on one elbow. “No!” She paused. “Did you?”

“I didn’t know we were allowed to write them down!”

Despite her current predicament, a laugh slipped out. “Fitz, you know I write down absolutely everything important.”

A smile tugged up the corners of his mouth. “Yes, Jemma, I know.”

There were so many questions Jemma wanted to ask. Had her parents been there? Where had they held it? Had she managed to write vows that weren’t entirely horrible? She really wasn’t very good at expressing her emotions. Her father used to tell her she took after her mother in that regard, but it was always said with fondness, so she’d figured it wasn’t too terrible a trait. Fitz obviously didn’t mind. She opened her mouth, and then closed it again, not quite ready to open the can of worms that was her apparent amnesia.

Fitz let out a heavy sigh and reached up, pushing a strand of hair behind one of her ears. “So,” he said softly. “The day you jumped—which is in my top three, no, maybe five worst moments of my life that somehow all involve you as well, so can we try and avoid any more of those, please?—was the day I realized I couldn’t do it anymore, Jemma. That we couldn’t be…we weren’t friends.”

Jemma’s mouth worked for a moment, but she couldn’t find any words. A chill ran down her spine. “Oh,” she said lamely. That hadn’t been the answer she’d expected at all. She’d apparently been nothing but a source of misery for poor Fitz, but that didn’t really explain how…

Fitz curled his arm around her, tucking her back up against his side and tangling their legs together. He leaned in and this time Jemma was able to swallow her surprised noise as he nipped at her lower lip and his tongue invaded her mouth. She never would have thought Fitz would be quite so intense, that he would be so…focused. Though she really should have guessed. Everything he did, he did with his entire being.

She slid a hand into his hair and surrendered to the fierceness of his kiss, trying to follow his lead, tentatively stroking his tongue with hers and arching against him. Apparently, he’d forgiven her for whatever she’d done but didn’t remember, which was a good sign. It was rather heady, being the object of his attentions. She suddenly hated anyone who’d ever come before her, wanting to erase them from his skin until she was all that was left.

She tipped her head back as he kissed the underside of her jaw, his hands sliding up under her tank top. “That was day,” he murmured against her throat, “That I finally understood I would never love anyone the way I love you.”

The entire earth seemed to shift beneath her, and everything she thought she knew was off-kilter, like she was viewing the memories she had left from the wrong end of a microscope.

Jemma let out an entirely undignified whimper as he cupped one of her breasts, his thumb sweeping over her nipple. “Fitz,” she gasped, her head swimming and a tear spilling down her cheek. “Please, I have to…there’s something important.”

Fitz hummed questioningly against her skin and gently nipped at her throat before lifting his head. His eyes were soft and unfocused and the absent-minded kiss he brushed across her lips while waiting for her to continue nearly broke her resolve.

“I can’t remember,” she whispered, another tear escaping. She clutched his arm as he frowned at her, wanting to hold onto him for as long as she could.

“Can’t remember what?”

Jemma drew in a shuddering breath. “Everything after I jumped.”

Fitz blinked at her, and she could practically see his brain begin to work through the problem at hand. “After you jumped off the Bus?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse.

Jemma slowly nodded, feeling his entire body tense.

“Fucking hell, Jemma.” His hands abruptly disappeared, and she squeezed her eyes shut as he pushed away from her, leaving her cold and alone. She heard his feet hit the concrete floor as he got up from the bed. “What…” He began to pace as she buried her head in a pillow, feeling shame creep up on her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know,” she sniffed, hating the betrayal in his voice. “I just…I thought I was dead, that the electrostatic shock had killed me, but then after a while I realized I probably wasn’t and I didn’t know anything except that you were here and…I don’t know why. I’m sorry.” She curled up in the bed, shaking as she tried to stifle the sobs crowding her throat.

“Hey.”

She felt him place a gentle hand on her back and curled up tighter, desperately trying to stop crying. She didn’t have time for tears right now, no matter how mad Fitz was with her. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

“Jemma, look at me,” Fitz said. She cautiously lifted her head and found him crouched beside the bed. He reached for her face, hesitated, and then brushed a hand through her hair. “Tell me the last thing you remember.”

Jemma blinked several times and rubbed her palm across her cheeks as she sat up, grabbing the blanket that was a heap at the foot of the bed and wrapping it around her. Fitz watched carefully, his hands twitching like he wanted to help but didn’t want to touch her. She stared at a spot on the wall over his shoulder so she wouldn’t have to see the disappointment on his face.

“I remember falling,” she whispered. “I remember…” she hesitated, darting a glance at Fitz. What if her memories were different than his, what would that mean? She took a breath. “Ward jumped out of the plane after me.” Fitz flinched, a shadow crossing his face. “He had the antiserum, and even though it hadn’t worked, he injected it into my leg.”

She waited, but Fitz didn’t say anything. “Did I kill him?” she asked in a small voice. “Am I dead?”

Fitz touched the back of her hand, and she released the blanket immediately, reaching for him. He laced their fingers together, rubbing her wedding band like a good luck charm. “No, Jemma, you’re not dead,” he said softly. He looked up, his eyes watery but his jaw set. “You didn’t kill him.”

“Oh,” she said helplessly. “Well, that’s…that’s good.”

“Yeah, sure.” Fitz scrubbed a hand over his face. “Anything else?”

“No,” Jemma whispered. “I think I passed out.”

He nodded, fiddling with her wedding ring. “The antiserum packed a punch, but it worked, the rat didn’t die, it was just knocked out like you were.”

Jemma sucked in a surprised breath. “Oh, that’s what you were trying to tell me.”

Fitz’s hand tightened around hers. “Yeah.”

“Fitz? Where are we?”

“The Lighthouse,” he said. “It’s, uh…it’s a long story, and now there’s a time loop and a dimensional rift and…” He trailed off, lifting his head. “And we’re trying to figure out how to disrupt it,” he said slowly, his eyes searching her face. “Jemma, what’s the first thing you remember from here?”

She paused, trying to put the moments since she’d woken up in the proper order. “I thought I was still falling,” she started, “but I wasn’t. And then I heard your voice, so I knew everything was alright.” She paused. “Well, until I realized I wasn’t wearing any trousers. That was a bit confusing.”

Fitz had both hands clasped around hers now, and he pressed a kiss to her fingers but she caught his small smile. Jemma relaxed a little. He wasn’t too mad, then. Maybe he’d already figured out what had happened. Although that wasn’t really fair, since he had a lot more information than she did to draw on, and…had he said they were trying to disrupt a time loop?

“You can’t change time, Fitz,” Jemma blurted. “That’s impossible.”

He sighed. “I have said that a thousand times, and then a thousand more times, but it hasn’t stopped you from insisting we keep trying.”

“It hasn’t?” Jemma asked, surprised. That didn’t seem like her. Well, unless she’d decided it had to be done anyway, in which case…oh dear, what had happened that had made her so determined to change time? “Something bad is coming,” she breathed. Fitz nodded, still clutching her hand. She let the blanket fall, reaching out with her other hand to cup his cheek. “We’ll figure it out,” she promised. The room wobbled for a moment, and she blinked, trying to clear her head.

“I think we might have,” Fitz said, kissing her fingers again. “Jemma, listen, no matter what happens, I need you to do something for me.”

Jemma tried to focus on his face, but white spots were dancing on the edges of her vision. “Fitz,” she said urgently. “Something’s wrong. I don’t…” Her own voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well, and a distant ringing was building in her ears.

“Jemma,” Fitz said. He was on his knees in front of her, peering into her face and holding her upright as she tipped to one side, feeling increasingly dizzy. “This is important. Do not trust Ward. Ever. Do you hear me?”

“Alright,” she mumbled. “Fitz…” She tried to grab his arm, but she missed, her limbs uncooperative. The room was a grey blur.

“Bloody hell, why can’t we ever time these damn things so they happen after we’ve figured them out?” he grumbled. “And stay away from space rocks,” he said a bit louder, “which of course you won’t, because what are the chances of you ignoring a fascinating discovery like that? Just…don’t go anywhere near them unless I’m right there with you, Jemma, alright? I’m serious. Right next to you.”

She could feel his arms around her, but she couldn’t seem to get her eyes to open.  “Fitz, what…”

“I’ve got you,” he whispered.

***

Something jarred her hard enough to make her teeth rattle and Jemma groaned, trying to open her eyes.

“You said you had her!” someone yelled. That wasn’t Fitz’s voice at all. How long had she been unconscious this time? She tried to lift her arms, but her limbs all felt strangely heavy. At least it felt like she was wearing trousers, wherever she was.

Someone else responded in a language she didn’t know, and they didn’t sound very happy.

She managed to crack open one eye, only to close it again immediately, nearly blinded by the sunlight shining directly on her face. “Fitz,” she tried to say, but it came out in a croak even she could barely understand.

“Take it easy, Simmons,” she heard someone say. “You got knocked around pretty good.” A hand patted her shoulder. Ward. Why was Ward here if Fitz had told her not to trust him? And where was Fitz?

There was more shouting she couldn’t decipher—Arabic, maybe?—and the sunlight was bright even through her eyelids. She reached up to cover her eyes with one hand and realized she was absolutely soaked through. She licked her lips, tasting salt. Her head ached and her fingers were numb and she was getting really tired of waking up with no idea as to where she was.

The distant sound of a helicopter broke through the shouting and Ward patted her shoulder again. “Here they come. We’ll be back on board in no time, Simmons.” He yelled something to the others as Jemma finally managed to open her eyes, shading them against the sun. The sky was bright blue and the metal wall beside her was spotted with rust. There was a splash nearby. Was she on a boat? None of this made any sense.

She could feel the rhythmic thump of the rotor blades as the helicopter got closer and she tried to get her bearings, pushing herself up to sitting and sagging back against the wall. The light was much too bright.

Feet rushed by her and something was draped over her shoulders. She looked up, squinting, to find Ward standing over her with a frown on his face. “We were in the water for a while, try and stay warm.”

Jemma pulled the blanket he’d provided around herself with shaking hands. She swallowed heavily and tried again to speak. “Fitz?” she rasped.

Something crossed Ward’s face that might have been amusement if he’d had a sense of humor. “I’m sure he’ll be waiting for you.”

Jemma sagged back against the wall, relieved to know Fitz was at least alive and well, wherever she was. She closed her eyes again and rubbed at her temple, trying to relieve the dull headache behind her eyes. The helicopter definitely wasn’t helping. A rush of wind told her it was landing nearby, and when she opened her eyes after the wash from the blades finally subsided, she was staring into a familiar face.

Jemma sucked in a startled breath. “Agent May.”

May nodded, crouching in front of her. “How are you feeling?” It really was a day for unusual things to happen, because Jemma was sure May looked almost happy to see her.

Jemma grimaced. “Head’s a bit wonky, but otherwise, mostly just wet. Is-” She hesitated, darting a glance at Ward who was hovering nearby. She still wasn’t quite sure where she was, and Fitz’s warning was echoing in her ears. “Is everyone else alright?”

“Everyone’s fine,” May said, her lips lifting slightly. “I brought you some dry clothes. Come on, we have a few minutes.” She held out her hand and Jemma took it, letting May pull her to her feet. “You gave us all a scare, Simmons,” May said quietly. “Let’s try and avoid that in the future.”

“Um, yes ma’am,” Jemma replied, shivering and pulling the blanket more tightly around her shoulders despite the blazing sun overhead. May turned on her heel and Jemma trailed after her. “Can I just ask…what happened?”

May stopped in front of a rusted door and yanked it open, making it creak loudly. She paused and gave Jemma a searching look. “You don’t remember?”

Biting her lip, Jemma tried to think of how to respond to the question. Her memory loss had been much easier when she’d woken up with Fitz. It might have been confusing, but she’d never felt quite so alone. “I…I don’t know. Things are a little mixed up.”

May pursed her lips thoughtfully and ushered Jemma into a tiny room with two bunks, handing over a bundle Jemma hadn’t noticed her carrying. The room was stuffy and smelled faintly like a gym, making Jemma wrinkle her nose. She tried to peel off her wet sweater, but the wool wasn’t cooperating with her fumbling hands.

“Here,” May said gently. She reached for the hem of Jemma’s sweater, waiting for a nod before grasping the bottom and tugging it up and off over Jemma’s head. Jemma let out a sigh of relief as the weight was lifted from her chest. May helped her unknot her soaked tie as well, before turning around and letting Jemma tackle the rest. It took longer than she would have liked to get her buttons undone, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she cataloged her outfit, trying to remember the last time she’d worn it.

“Fitz said the pulse released a lot of energy, I’m sure you’ll be back to normal in no time,” May said.

Jemma froze with her dry trousers halfway on. She swallowed a demand to know where Fitz was right this second. “What pulse?” she asked instead, unable to keep her voice steady.

It wasn’t until she was fastening the button that she noticed, her stomach plummeting to the floor. She lifted her left hand, trembling. Her ring was gone. Her vision swam as she clenched her hand into a fist and tried to remember how to breathe. What had happened? Had Fitz not forgiven her after all? She fought back tears. Was that why he wasn’t here?

“The one from the alien virus?” May replied, sounding concerned. “Ward said it knocked you out while you were both on the way down. Simmons, are you sure you’re alright?”

“The…” Jemma froze, her mind racing and a dry shirt clutched in her hands. “That’s impossible,” she breathed.

May turned towards her again, her expression concerned. “Maybe we should get you checked out by a doctor.”

A tear rolled down Jemma’s cheek and she nearly laughed. “He was right.”

Reaching out, May tugged Jemma’s shirt up her arms and over her shoulders, fastening the buttons quickly and efficiently. “Who, Jemma?”

“Fitz,” Jemma whispered, feeling another tear escape. “We did it.”

May seemed to relax. “You did,” she agreed. She patted Jemma’s arm. “Ready?”

Nodding, Jemma followed May dazedly out into the sun again and listened to Ward argue with who she assumed was the captain while she settled into a seat and put on the headset May handed her.

The world got very quiet, and Jemma was finally able to think properly. A time loop, Fitz had said, one they were trying to break. How far forward had she gone? What, exactly, were they supposed to prevent? Fitz hadn’t given her much to go on, other than his warnings about Ward and some rocks. Jemma rubbed the spot where her ring had been. Would everything change?

Ward swung into the helicopter, looking annoyed, and settled himself next to May. He glanced back at Jemma and she found herself scrutinizing his face, trying to find some clue as to why she shouldn’t trust him. He’d never been her favorite person, but that was hardly a crime, and he seemed to be a very dedicated agent. She eyed him suspiciously, but Ward had already turned away and then the helicopter was lifting off.

Her fingers itched to record what she remembered before it could slip away, lost to her fallible human memory, but she’d left her phone on the plane. Already, she was having trouble gauging how long she’d been in that other place, it had felt like hardly a moment and an entire lifetime. Jemma stared out of the helicopter as May steered them toward their destination. She did remember, quite clearly, that Fitz had said this was the day everything had changed for him. For them.

This time, when she looked down at the ocean from high above it, Jemma felt nothing but hope.

***

Coulson was standing behind his desk, looking serious and saying something that she should probably be listening to, but Jemma was having a difficult time paying attention.

May had ushered her and Ward from the helicopter to a small, nondescript building once they’d landed, and they’d all been stuck in a musty, stifling room for what felt like forever, listening to Coulson yell at someone on the other side of an imposing door. The fan overhead had spun in lazy circles and done absolutely nothing to cool down the room. Ward had gotten up from the ugly, mismatched and ostentatious furniture several times to pace, but May had hardly moved from her station by the window, as unflappable as ever.

Once Coulson had finished, they’d all climbed into a gleaming car, the shiny exterior at odds with the dust covering everything around them, and ridden in silence to the Bus.

Jemma’s heart had leapt as they’d walked up the plane’s ramp, then sank when she realized Fitz was nowhere to be found. All she’d wanted was to talk to him, to confirm that everything she thought she remembered wasn’t some insane fever dream she’d had. The longer she was back in this time, the more distant—and unbelievable—wherever she’d been had seemed. Maybe the virus had scrambled her brain.

She absently rubbed the ring finger of her left hand and hopefully responded in an appropriate manner before Coulson dismissed her. Her heartbeat was thrumming in her ears as first Ward, and then Skye seemed determined to keep her occupied when all she wanted was to find the one person she could always rely on.

No matter where, or when, they were.

Jemma took a deep breath, standing outside of Fitz’s bunk, before finally knocking on the door. She’d meant for it to sound confident, but her hand failed her, and it came out as more of a stuttering tap.

Fitz’s answering “Yeah?” nearly brought her to her knees with relief, but she somehow managed to stay upright and push open the door.

“Fitz?” she asked quietly.

He sat up hastily, his feet thumping to the floor and a pillow clutched to his chest. For a long moment, he just stared at her, and she took the opportunity to drink him in. Here was the Fitz she knew, with his wild curls and clear blue eyes without the weight of the world behind them.

“Jemma,” he said. “I didn’t…I mean, I wasn’t…you’re probably tired.”

She stepped into his tiny cubicle, gently shutting the door behind her. Her pulse quickened as she tried to figure out how to tell him what had happened. ‘I met future-you and we spent quite a lot of time in bed together because apparently we got married’ might be a bit overwhelming. Perhaps she should ease into it.

“Not really. I came to say thank you,” she said quietly, crossing the room and sitting down next to him on his bunk. He watched her the entire way, his eyes never wavering. A shiver ran down her spine as she pressed her thigh against his, feeling the warmth seeping through her trousers.

“Uh, sure,” he said, finally looking away and ducking his head.

She was close enough to him that she could see a patch of stubble just under his chin that he must have missed that morning and she fought to keep from burying her face against his neck.

Drawing in a breath, she tried to figure out where to begin. “Fitz-”

“I was going to do it, you know,” he interrupted, lifting his head. There was a hint of something in his voice that reminded her of the other Fitz, who’d been so single-minded in his attention. “I had the antiserum, the chute, everything. I just couldn’t get the straps on.”

A memory echoed through her mind, of Fitz telling her that he’d always save her. Jemma’s heart twisted.

“And I…”

“Fitz,” she said again, taking one of his hands and tugging the pillow from his grasp, dropping it to the floor. “I know.”

“…could have—what are you doing?”

Jemma had pulled his hand over into her lap, her fingers trailing down his palm before she carefully slotted their fingers together. They fit perfectly, just like she remembered. Predicted? What did people call memories that hadn’t happened yet? “I know you would have.”

“Uh…yeah. But Ward-”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said softly. “I had you.”

Fitz was staring at her, perplexed, but she took comfort in the fact that he hadn’t pulled his hand away. She leaned in until her head was resting on his shoulder and hid a smile behind her hair as he automatically shifted to help her find the perfect spot.  She inhaled deeply, and finally relaxed for the first time since she’d woken up on the boat.

“Something happened, Fitz,” she murmured. “Something…extraordinary.”

“Uh, I’d call it more terrifying, actually, but…”

“I think I was in the future,” she blurted, lifting her head. “Or perhaps a possible future, it’s a little confusing.” She winced as Fitz’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. So much for easing. She really was terrible at keeping things from him.

“Ah.” Fitz sounded entirely lost, not that she blamed him. “Alright,” he said cautiously.

She loved him for that, for not telling her she was crazy, or trying to convince her she had to be mistaken. He always did know just how to make her feel better. “Can I ask you something?”

Fitz nodded, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles just like he would someday in a tiny bathroom, unless they changed whatever they'd been trying to fix. A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. “Sure you don't already know the answer?”

Jemma let out a laugh and wiped at her watery eyes, clutching Fitz’s hand like a lifeline. “We're friends, aren't we?”

He pressed his lips together, all traces of amusement gone, and then he looked away. She couldn't help but hold her breath, suddenly unsure of what he might say. “Sure,” he said, his tone flat.

Jemma bit her lip nervously. “Have you ever thought…” Her courage faltered, but then Fitz lifted his head and she saw, just for a split second, that same expression she remembered from before that took her breath away and made her wonder what she’d done to deserve it. Maybe she hadn't gone mad from a brain-zapping alien virus, after all.

“Thought what?” Fitz asked, frowning.

He was so close and still too far away. Jemma leaned in, hardly daring to breathe and watched Fitz’s eyes widen. He made a noise deep in his throat, but she wasn’t sure what it meant. She managed to stop a hairsbreadth from his lips, her heart pounding. “Fitz?” she whispered.

And then he was kissing her.

Jemma let out a surprised squeak before her eyes fluttered closed, reveling in the press of his mouth against hers. It was just as intense as she remembered, his teeth tugging on her lower lip until she parted her lips so he could catalog every detail of her mouth with his tongue. It was everything she’d been missing and nothing like she’d expected. She clutched at the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, as he slid a hand into her hair and they tipped backward onto his bunk.

A startled noise escaped her as Jemma hit the narrow mattress, and Fitz pulled back, his expression panicked. “I’m sorry,” he panted. “I didn’t-”

She managed to extract her hand from between them and wrapped both her arms around his shoulders, pulling him back down. “Don’t stop,” she murmured, pressing a kiss against the unshaven spot just under his chin, reveling in the feel of the roughness against her lips. She was going to have to hide all his razors. Fitz let out a cross between a gasp and a groan that made her smile before he repaid her by slipping a hand under the hem of her shirt and trailing his fingers across her stomach, making her whimper, then kissing her again.

How had she wasted so much time, lived this long, without the knowledge of how wonderfully her best friend kissed, or how incredible he made her feel? There was too much clothing between them, but she forced herself to be content with sliding her hands up the back of his untucked shirt and humming in satisfaction against his mouth as she arched up underneath him. There’d be time for more, later. They’d have all the time in the world.

Dimly, she realized his kisses were getting softer, his grip on her hair lessening. She opened her eyes, worried, only to find him gazing down at her. He skimmed her cheek with one hand, like he wasn’t quite sure he could trust his own eyes. “Jemma,” he said, his voice hoarse. “What…”

She reached up, cradling his face and gently kissing him once before answering. “I told you, I was in the future. You were there.”  

Fitz blinked at her. “So, we were…”

“Married.”

Fitz’s jaw dropped, and his face flushed bright red. “Erm, Simmons, not that I don’t…I mean-”

A laugh bubbled out of Jemma’s throat and she kissed one pink cheek, then the other, sliding her hands down to tug at the knot of his tie. “And do you know, after I got over the shock of waking up in bed together, what the first thing to go through my mind was?”

“How the hell did I get stuck with this pasty bastard?” he asked wryly.

Jemma shook her head and pulled his tie free, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt and slipping her hand inside to trace his collarbone. She watched, fascinated, as he swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing. “That I wished I could remember falling in love with you,” she whispered.

He stared at her, and she waited for him to respond, feeling her own face heat up. Maybe she’d gone a little overboard with the future memories explanation. This was much less easing him into it and more throwing him into the deep end. That Fitz had said he loved her, even now, but maybe he hadn’t remembered it exactly right, or…

“We were in bed together?” he said, a smile tugging up one corner of his mouth.

Jemma rolled her eyes. “We were married, Fitz, of course we shared a bed.”

His gaze slid down to the front of her shirt before he unexpectedly moved away and settled next to her on the tiny bunk. “Ah.”

She frowned, missing his weight on top of her, and then she let out an exasperated sigh. This was not going at all how she imagined. Rolling onto her side, she started undoing the buttons of his shirt one at a time, pressing him up against the wall behind the bunk and leaning in to leave a trail of kisses as she slowly exposed his skin. His chest rose and fell a little more rapidly as she reached the middle of his sternum, and he was clutching one of her elbows. She glanced up, a thrill running down her spine at the dazed look on his face. “So, we should probably give that a try,” she said.

“Marriage?” Fitz croaked. “I mean, I guess we could…”

Jemma suppressed a grin. “I was thinking the bed sharing, first.”

His mouth worked for a minute, and then he dropped his head back against the mattress with a groan. “Please forget I said that.”

Jemma propped herself up over him, her fingers trailing down his chest. His abdomen twitched under her hand. “I already know it happens,” she reminded him, amused.

He eyed her. “I think you may have an unfair advantage.”

“I’ll catch you up.” She bent down to kiss him again, leisurely this time, enjoying the way his hand clutched her hip and then tentatively slid around to rest on her bum. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Fitz hummed against her lips and pushed her back slightly, his fingers sliding down to fiddle with her buttons, making her shiver as he undid one, followed by another. “Just don’t ever scare me like that again,” he murmured.

“Um,” Jemma said guiltily.

Fitz narrowed his eyes at her, then undid another button. “Catch me up soon, yeah?”

“I promise.”  

He tugged her down and she melted against him, kissing every bit of him that she could reach while he tugged off her shirt, feeling like she was finally right where she belonged.

***

“Watch out for space rocks?” Jemma said, shaking her head and trying to clear the cobwebs. “Fitz, what are you talking about?”

“Jemma?”

His arms were wound so tightly around her it was hard to breathe. Why was she sitting up? The blanket was a tangled heap around her legs and she yanked at it, feeling overheated. Fitz was practically incapable of not draping himself over her while they slept. She hadn’t needed a blanket at all since they’d ended up in the Lighthouse, between its climate controls and their shared room.

Strong hands grasped her shoulders. “What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked, sounded incredibly serious.

“Um, going to bed?” she said. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Do you know where you are?”

“In the Lighthouse? Seriously, Fitz, you’re starting to scare me.” She reached up, cradling his face in her hands. “What’s going on? Did something happen with the rift?”

He gazed at her for a long moment, his eyes searching her face until he seemed to find what he’d been looking for. Then his shoulders slumped and he pitched forward, burying his face against her neck and wrapping his arms around her once more. “Fucking hell,” he said, sounding relieved. “Jemma.”

“Fitz?”

“I love you,” he mumbled against her skin.

She stroked his chest soothingly, since he had her arms clamped to her sides and it was pretty much the only part of him she could reach, and leaned her cheek against his head. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “What’s going on?”

Fitz finally loosened his hold on her, only to grasp her hand and pull her up off the bed. “Come on, to the lab with you.”

“What?”

“You were here, but it wasn’t you.”

“Fitz, honestly, you aren’t making any sense.”

“Tell that to the other Jemma!”

“What other Jemma?” Jemma put her hands on her hips as Fitz shrugged into his discarded shirt and spun in a circle, presumably looking for his trousers, which he’d left in a heap by the hamper. Sighing, she headed in that direction. She’d better get dressed as well, since they clearly weren’t going to get any more sleep tonight. It was a pity, really. They’d had hardly any time to enjoy being married.

“The Jemma from the past. She was here, Jemma. Right here in this room.”

Jemma paused in the middle of pulling a sweater over her head. “Jemma from the past?”

Fitz accepted the trousers she handed him and sank down onto the bed. “I swear, Jemma, it was you, but it wasn’t…it wasn’t you.”

She stared at him, trying to catch up. “It was a past version of me,” she finally said, her mind racing. “From when?”

Fitz scrubbed a hand through his hair. “The time…the time you jumped off the bus, Jemma. Because of the alien virus.”

Jemma sucked in a surprised breath. That was so long ago it seemed like almost another lifetime. She could barely remember how terrified she’d been. How she’d naïvely thought nothing would ever be more frightening than that moment. God, she wished that were true. “Then…we did it,” she said slowly.

“What?” Fitz got up, casting about for something, presumably his shoes. Jemma nudged them out from under the bed and buttoned her own trousers.

“We did it, Fitz, we figured out how to break the loop. If she and I switched places, even for just a little while, imagine…” Hope bubbled up inside of her for what felt like the first time since she’d seen his face in the future, when she’d thought all hope was lost. He always found a way.

“I guess, but why send you?” he asked, jamming his foot into a shoe and scowling at it. “And why go back so far?”

Jemma frowned, considering. “Maybe it has to do with the excess energy from the virus? Maybe we figured out how to use it somehow. I hadn’t thought to try going back instead of forward. Do you think the…”

Fitz reached out, dragging her closer and staring up at her from the bed, clutching her hands. “No, Jemma, I mean, why you?” He looked so tired. She wanted to promise him that everything would be alright, that nothing else could go wrong, but the looming knowledge that the entire world was going to crack apart would belie her words. “Why not…anyone else?”

“Oh.” Jemma sank down to sit next to him on the bed, entwining their fingers and fiddling with the ring on his hand. She didn’t think she’d ever stop being astonished that he’d married her after everything they’d been through. “Well, that’s easy. If we only have a few minutes to convince someone from the past that things needed to be changed, it has to be me.”

“Why?”

Jemma took a deep breath. “Because I trust you, Fitz, and I always have. You knew what we could be, together, and never wavered, even when I was so…scared. Back then, I didn’t see what you did. How amazing we could be. But here, now, with you-” Jemma trailed off, smiling, even as tears gathered in her eyes. “She wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Fitz curled his hand tightly around hers. “Then I guess we’d better figure out how we did it.” His voice was hoarse, and he wasn’t looking her in the eye.

“We will,” Jemma murmured, leaning in until her head was nestled against his shoulder. “And I can’t wait to take that leap with you.”

Fitz nuzzled her temple, kissing it softly. “How much do you think will actually change?”

“Everything, if we do it right.” Jemma worried her lower lip with her teeth. “So we don’t end up here.”

He blew out a long breath. “I guess there are a few things I could have done without. Being dropped to the bottom of the ocean and nearly dying, for starters.” He ran a hand through her hair. “As long as some things stay the same.”

Jemma squeezed his hand. “Then let’s fix it. Let’s go back.”

Back to the beginning.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I started this a couple weeks ago and had no idea how much I was going to need to finish it after the S5 finale. 
> 
> Thanks to Sunalso for encouraging my coping mechanism.


End file.
